


Like Cats and Dogs

by Make_It_Worse



Series: Follower Appreciation [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Hank, Bottom Hank Anderson, Connor finds a kitten, Connor is helping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Constipation, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank is working on it, Just Add Kittens, M/M, No Sex, Personal Growth, Service Top Connor, These tags are excessive, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Connor, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), emotions are hard, implied bottom Hank, no beta we die like men, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 12:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Make_It_Worse/pseuds/Make_It_Worse
Summary: “What if Sumo eats her?” Connor smiles at Hank acknowledging the cat isn’t anitbut scoffs at his concern, “Sumo won’t take more than the five steps required from his dog bed to his food bowl to eat. Do you really think it’s plausible that he will chase a spry, much younger kitten?”Hank casts an accusatory finger in Connor’s direction, “Watch who you’re calling old.”--Connor finds a kitten and Sumo has a sulk. Emotions are hard, but Hank is working on it.This is part of my follower appreciation series. They're short little ficlets requested by followers to show appreciation for all the support I get on AO3 and Twitter :)





	Like Cats and Dogs

Hank knew the attempt was pointless well before he began, but it was the principle of the thing, “Connor, it might belong to someone.” He tries to make him see reason, but Connor already has the bedraggled ball of grey fluff cocooned in blankets on his chest. He slumps low on the couch to let the dinky kitten get more comfortable. Hank’s back aches just looking at the awkward angle.

Connor’s voice comes out somewhat higher pitched than usual, “We found—,”

“ _You_ found it,” Hank interjects with more than a touch of petulance.

Connor is having none of it, “WE found HER while out walking Sumo. In a _gutter_ , Hank. Who lets a tiny kitten wander into the _sewer_?” Hank has to admit Connor has a point there. Still, he doesn’t want yet another responsibility.

Sumo is a 170-pound pain in his ass most days, but he serves a practical purpose as well. He kept Hank sane before Connor came into his life. Now, he is his trusted ally in laziness whenever Connor gets into one of his, “We should walk more” moods. Hank’s limit it once per day; Connor’s been angling for two. Connor may be able to carry Hank _or_ Sumo around the block over his shoulder if he sets his mind to it, but he can’t manage both at once.

At least, Hank hopes not.

Regardless, Hank can always rely on Sumo to join him for hours-long stretches of inactivity on a lazy Sunday. A kitten? He has his doubts. He also just plain doesn’t like cats. He doesn’t _dislike_ them per se, but they’re not his favorite. What if he steps on it on his way to take a leak in the middle of the night? What if it pisses in his closet? What if it scratches his (admittedly worn) furniture?

The decent part of Hank hisses at him to stop being a selfish prat. Seeing the happy little smile on Connor’s face does something to him as well. Connor hasn’t had a lot of reason to smile lately what with the spike in human on android crimes. Work has a way of leaking into their home life if Hank isn’t cognizant of it. Connor would work 24/7 if he let him and Hank hasn’t been the best about maintaining that boundary.

“What if Sumo eats her?” Connor smiles at Hank acknowledging the cat isn’t an _it_ but scoffs at his concern, “Sumo won’t take more than the five steps required from his dog bed to his food bowl to eat. Do you really think it’s plausible that he will chase a spry, much younger kitten?”

Hank casts an accusatory finger in Connor’s direction, “Watch who you’re calling old.”

He knows he’s officially lost when Connor’s smile softens the corners of his eyes. Hank recognizes that look. He still struggles with the idea of it—someone loving him—but it’s clear on Connor’s face.

Hank’s heart flops and panics at the sight before his brain can get it back under control, “Fine—but if she uses my shoes as a litter box she is _gone_.”

“Of course, Hank,” Connor murmurs while bringing the trilling bundle of kitten up to touch their noses together. Hank knows that cat could rob a bank and Connor would cling to her for dear life. He resigns himself to being Detroit’s newest cat owner and the world’s biggest softy.

It takes three weeks and several very serious talks from Connor to get Princess Sushi Cakes (Sushi for short) to stop peeing in the tub. Hank learns the hard way to never make idle threats when Connor locks him in the closet after blustering about getting her declawed. Sushi has a habit of using Hank’s leg to climb up onto the couch and those little claws _hurt_.

After promising that he was kidding and that he won’t “rip out her tiny toenails” as Connor had put it, Connor lets him out and life resumes its new normal. Which is about as far from normal by societal standards as it can be, but Hank’s mental health is better for it.

Still, he has his concerns. Sumo seems wary of Sushi and avoids her for the most part, “Do you think Sushi is stressful for Sumo? He never lies still anymore and he seems…grumpy.” Connor’s inclined to agree. Sumo doesn’t want pets these days and Connor hasn’t had any reason to tell him he’s a good boy since the kitten joined their household. Sumo wasn’t acting out so much as he was being surly. A doggy sulk, if Connor had to put words to it.

While Hank had mostly been joking about Sumo trying to eat Sushi, he was starting to wonder if that wasn’t more likely than he thought given Sumo’s sullen attitude. As much as he complains about the lumbering animal, his affection for his dog is genuine. Had he made a mistake letting Connor keep the kitten?

Plagued by concerns, sleep doesn’t come easy. He startles badly when his cell phone rattles next to his head at, “Three fucking AM Connor, really?” Connor rarely texted Hank while working a night shift. His irritation shifts to trepidation when he considers the plausible reasons Connor would want to wake him.

_Please come to the living room, Hank. Keep your voice down._

Blinking blearily at the text, he tries to remember when Connor was due home. How long has he been sitting in the living room?

Treading carefully to avoid the floorboards that squeak, Hank approaches Connor in growing confusion. He’s seated on the couch and appears uninjured. Rounding the side of the sofa, Connor holds up a hand just as Hank is about to speak. His raised palm transforms into a one-fingered point in the direction of Sumo’s dog bed.

The great dog himself is slumped half on, half off the pallet, snoozing away blissfully unaware he has an audience. Sushi’s minuscule head peeps out over one of his great big paws while the rest of her diminutive body curls against Sumo’s jowl. Even at this distance, Hank can hear her purr.

Hank tries and fails to contain a jump of shock when Connor’s voice whispers next to his ear, “I think he felt lonely.” Hank hadn’t heard him rise or approach, and his face is a mask of irritation at the unnecessary near-heart attack. It softens when Connor continues, “He just needed some love.”

Hank spreads his fingers at the warm press of a palm against his, fingers threading together, “Yeah.” He answers gruffly before admitting, “I know the feeling.” Connor leans into him with a pleased hum.

They linger for a few moments before Connor shuffles Hank back to bed. Connor doesn’t require sleep, but some nights he knows Hank needs to be held. Even if Hank won’t admit it, the last remaining vestiges of tension he carried over Sumo releases when Connor’s limbs tangle with his.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WorseMake).


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